Sniffing Should Be Outlawed (A Slumber Party In My Son’s Room)

I need to be honest tonight. Today…disastrous. It has been an emotionally and physically draining day. I haven’t had a day like this in a long while. Today, it snuck up on me and bit me in the hiney with a vengeance.

Today sucked. There’s no other way to describe it. So much so, I wish I could pack my pink backpack with multicolored hearts on it that I had in the 3rd grade and run away for a while. That backpack…man I loved that thing. It was the backpack that took me places. The one that I hid my Cabbage Patch doll named Aggie Hannah in behind my Trapper Keeper notebook that I smuggled into Dunn Elementary. We were friends, Aggie and I. I’d check on her at lunch, kissing her bald head before eating my peanut butter sandwich at the lunch table. I’m not weird. I wasn’t a deranged child. I was an ONLY child. Aggie and I were close. She is now melting in my attic in a black garbage bag stuffed behind the Christmas tree. But we are close.

The consuming snowball of a distasteful day started last night. My husband had to get up at 3:45 this morning for work. He’s a computer guy. You know where I’m going with this.

The world wide web never sleeps. I wanted to sleep, so I politely told him I was going to stay upstairs to avoid being woken up by his tiptoeing around. When I say tiptoeing, I mean walking through our bedroom like a blind ape in a cage full of lions. Men can’t be quiet. I think women are born with the ability to be quiet as a mouse. We are caregivers, mothers, helpers. We have to be quiet, calm and know when to “keep it down”. Men like slamming doors, coughing in the dark at 1am while they run the ice maker in the kitchen, bedroom door open to get a drink of water to calm the cough that woke you up an hour ago. You’ve been there, ladies. {high five}

My youngest who has ears that can hear you eating a chocolate popsicle downstairs and across the house while the vaccum is running and the stereo in the living room is playing AC/DC heard me say, “I’m sleeping upstairs tonight.”

Little A: “You’re sleeping upstairs, Mommy?”

Me: “Yes honey.”

Little A: “Wellllll….why don’t you sleep in my room? We could have a slumber party!” <—-His eyes are the size of Frisbee’s here

Me: “Um, okay. But where am I going to sleep? On the floor? Mommy’s back is too old to sleep on the floor sweetie.”

Little A: “Well you can have my bed and I’ll sleep on the floor.”

His bed is the size of a walnut.

Me: “Well no, but thank you for offering. I think I’ll take Alex’s bed in his room. Maybe Alex can sleep with you.” <——-Those big eyes are now filled with tears.

My mommy heart melts into a puddle of mush. How can I say no to that sweet little face that makes my world go round? I can’t. So I fulfill my fate of a sleepless night.

Me: “Alright. I’ll sleep with you in your room. I’ll bring a twin mattress in and I’ll sleep on the floor. How does that sound?”

Little A: “Oh yes, Mommy! We can read and tell stories!”

He’s smitten. So was I for about half an hour.

I read. He reads. My back hurt. The twin mattress I’m on feels like a piece of plywood covered in rocks. I fidget. My hip hurts. Crud, this night is going to be awful. I’m old. I have aches.

My mind wanders. I’m REALLY into my book. He sets his down ten minutes after he starts reading.

Little A: “You ready for sleeping, Mommy?”

Um, no. I smile. “Sure. Are you ready for sleeping, hon?” He nods.

We turn the light off. I’m not tired. He fidgets in his bed. He drops his stuffed SpongeBob twice on the floor in fifteen minutes and asks me to pick it up. I now despise Spongebob and his ugly black shoes.

He sniffs. I should have given him an allergy pill.

My leg is aching. This $%^* mattress.

He keeps sniffing. “Please stop sniffing, sweetheart. Do you need a tissue?”

Little A: Sniff, sniff, sniff “No thank you.”

I think about errands tomorrow. Did I shut the garage door after taking the dog for a walk tonight? Why is there a green light glowing from behind his dresser? I think about the green light. What do we have that emits a green light in this house? Surge protectors have red lights in our house. iPod chargers don’t have lights. What the frick is it? I sit up. The light goes off. A green light ghost.

I turn over. My shoulder is on fire. I fluff my pillows. He sniffs. My sweet mother Mary, if he sniffs again I may smother my child. I’ll tell the authorities the mysterious green light made me do it.

I start singing “Radioactive” in my head. I can hear that dad-gum drum beating against my brain. I now hate this song. He sniffs. Holy nerds on a ship I’m gonna lose it. “It’s a revolution I suppose. We’re painted red, to fit right in. Whoa. I’m waking up, I feel it in my bones, enough to make my systems blow, welcome to the new age, to the new age, welcome to the new age….”

I finally fall asleep. I’m dreaming about being in Mike Tyson’s apartment with a black cat the size of a bird that talks. I hear a scuffle. I open my eyes. Little A is up. He’s standing at his door, opening it wide. I sit up.

Me: “Hey, where are you going?”

He walks over to me in the dark and bends down. “What are you doing in my room?” He then stands up and climbs back into bed. He sniffs. He’s sleepwalking. I feel like pounding a hole in the wall. He sniffs….I sigh. Loudly.

6:15am. I wake up. Something’s at the bedroom door. I open it. The dog runs in and sneezes in my bed. Twice before getting under my blanket and licking her feet. I kick her. She jumps on Little A’s bed, waking him up. He wakes up sniffing. I roll my eyes in the dark and lay down.

I close my eyes. My body aches like I’ve slept in a gravel pit. I’m pretty sure my left foot is numb. I feel hands on my shoulder.

Little A: “Hey Mommy, you awake?”

Me: “Well, I am now.”

I fidget and get up. I’m so tired I have trouble seeing the stairs twisting my ankle on the way down. Fab. It was the numb foot too.

I make Little A breakfast. He asks how I slept. Before I answer, he sniffs.